


Harry Potter and the Consequences of Abuse

by chemistrykind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemistrykind/pseuds/chemistrykind
Summary: The wizarding world internationally rejoiced when the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Many of them came to wish Harry well in public as a boy, to congratulate him for his efforts as an infant. Some of them came to wish Harry wellnotin public.And some of them, like Alastor Moody, had their suspicions about the defeat of Voldemort at all.-This is written out of pure spite towards Rowling :) :)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. The Boy-Who-Was-Rehomed

Harry Potter was five years old when the Wizards came to take him away.

It was 8:31am on a Thursday, and Harry and Dudley Dursley, his cousin, were eating cornflakes at the kitchen table. It was the third week of school ever for Harry, and his cousin seemed to have figured out that he could be just as horrible to Harry at school, too.

"But I don't wanna go to the train station after school," the boy was complaining.

"Want to," Petunia corrected him automatically. She was always very keen about her children appearing as if they had a proper upbringing, and that school they were going to was slowly but surely undermining her work. "And you'll be fine, popsie, we're just going to pick Daddy up from his work trip, okay?" She cooed.

"But what if I get lost?" Dudley whined, his lip trembling. He and Harry had gotten lost at the supermarket last Monday, and Harry's cousin had still not gotten over it.

"Just ask one of the cloaked men," Harry pointed out. "They _always_ give me direckshuns."

"Directions, boy," Petunia corrected in her posh accent, but she suddenly looked a little pale. "And what in God's good name do you mean?"

"When I'm lost," Harry tried to explain. "One of 'em tells me which way to go. An' they're a'ways right." His pronunciation wasn't as good as Dudley's, which was another thing his cousin liked to pick on him about.

" _Al_ -ways," Petunia emphasised. "And what utter rubbish. Is this what they're been putting in your heads at school?"

Harry avoided her gaze and stared down into his cornflakes. He knew better than to argue with his aunt when she was like this by now. "Sorry, Aunt Petunia."

"That's more like it," she said with satisfaction. "Now, both of you hurry along to school, off you go. I'll pick you up afterwards, so don't get into trouble!"

Harry and Dudley slid out of their seats, picking up their bags.

As soon as they were out of the house, Dudley punched him in the arm. "See you later, loser." And he ran off, yelling out to his friends down the road.

Harry rubbed his arm with a sigh, and meandered after the boy. Technically, they were supposed to walk together, but he was glad that Dudley preferred not to. Most children his age were supposed to be afraid of walking alone, like in the presentations at school, but he didn't mind - he could always talk to one of the cloaked men for help, if he needed to. They somehow always recognised him and knew his name. He didn't really understand why Dudley was so scared about the train station. Speaking of which...

"Are you going to talk to me today?" He asked loudly.

A lady in a long black dress hurriedly scuttled behind a bus stop, as if pretending not to hear him. Harry sighed. He had noticed the lady following him to school and back for the past few weeks, and it did unnerve him a bit... but nothing had happened yet. And it wasn't like she didn't have the opportunity.

-

It was four o'clock on Thursday, and the train station was crowded and noisy with business-people coming home from work. Harry sank into the folds of his aunt's dress a little, slightly intimidated, and she slapped at him crossly.

"For Christ's sake, Harry, behave."

He looked across her to Dudley, who had done the same thing - although to the extent that he was barely visible, only his school-issued socks and shoes peeping out.

"Oh, Vernon!" Harry's aunt exclaimed suddenly, lighting up. She pointed across the station. "Look, can you see? There's Daddy!"

"I want to see, I want to see!" Dudley hollered up at her, jumping up and down.

With an enthusiastic swing, she picked him up off his feet, hoisting him up on her back to see across the crowds. Harry secretly wished she would do the same for him, but then his attention was quickly otherwise occupied by the appearance of five cloaked men who had appeared out of nowhere. They began walking surreptitiously towards the three of them while Aunt Petunia and Dudley were distracted, and Harry lit up.

"Hello!" he squeaked. He thought he maybe he recognised some of them. "Mr Robards, is that you?"

The four of them turned their heads to stare at the young Indian man. His eyes widened, a grim look coming over his face, and he nodded. In a flash, the five of them took out long rods of wood, and Harry knew nothing more.

-

When Harry came to, he was lying on an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar living room. The walls were painfully white, and the living room looked as if it were a top-secret military base, with armour and weaponry hanging off the walls. He struggled to get up, looking around in shock.

"Oh, you're awake," said Mr Robards cheerfully, walking through a far door. He came over and placed a tray of biscuits and milk on the coffee table in front of Harry, which looked less like a coffee table and more like a crate. "Sorry about taking you by surprise, but we might not have been able to talk if we gave you any warning."

"But you talk to me all the time, Mr Robards," said Harry, cautiously moving his hand towards the biscuits to see if the man would yell at him.

Mr Robards did not. "In the cafe, sometimes, but there are other people there," he said slowly, in the way adults do when they are aware they are talking to a child. "But we have to talk to you about something very, very important."

"We?" Harry was suddenly aware that a lot of the cloaked men seemed to know each other.

"It's about your parents," the man said gently, his accent becoming slightly thicker.

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable. "I want to go home," he said loudly. "Which house is this?"

"Mine," barked a voice from the door.

And then the most terrifying cloaked man Harry had ever seen stumped forward. He had one big blue eye that whizzed about, and he hobbled along, as if one leg was giving him horrendous pain. He would have been very good-looking if it didn't look like he had just come back from war.

"Alastor!" hissed Mr Robards. "I told you not to scare the boy."

"Well, we don't have a choice if we don't want Albus kicking the door down," the one-blue-eye man replied grimly, taking a seat next to him. "Harry, boy. We're friends of your late parents. We just want to know... about your aunt and uncle. Are they treating you well?"

Harry stared at one of them to the other. "Uh. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?"

"Do they feed you enough when you're hungry?" the Alastor man persisted. "Do they hurt you? Do they pretend things don't happen when they do? These are tough questions, kid, but we've gotta know the answers before we can let you go home."

Harry raised his knees to his chest, defensively. The cloaked men were okay, but they suddenly seemed very scary today. "I want to go home, please."

And then a loud _crash_ came at the door, as if someone had kicked it down. With a burst of language that Harry wished he hadn't heard, the one-blue-eye man shot to his feet, practically shooting over to the door with one of those long sticks of wood out.

"Albus!" barked the man. "What do you want?"

"Alastor," came an old man's voice, somewhat coolly. "May I ask what your business with Harry Potter is?"

" _Muffliato_ ," replied Alastor in a funny accent, and then all Harry could hear was buzzing.

Harry wrapped his hands tighter around his knees. "What does that old man want with me?" he whispered to Mr Robards, who seemed like the only one who was making sense.

"He wants to take you back to your aunt and uncle," the man hissed back, seeming somewhat on edge with his eyes pinned to the broken door.

"Good," said Harry decisively. "I want to go with him." And he rose to his feet.

"Wait!" Mr Robards pleaded, his eyes whipping around. "Harry Potter, let me ask you something first."

"What?" Harry asked, on the edge of running away.

"If you could live with some different relatives," Mr Robards asked, "like your aunt and uncle, but if they treated you kinder, and you didn't have to live with your cousin, would you?"

Harry hesitated. "Aunt Petunia says she and Uncle are my only family," he replied hesitantly. "She says my dad's cousin Charlus died in the war. An' Aunt Petunia doesn't have any other siblings, and Granny Evans died before the car accident..."

"Your immediate family, yes," Mr Robards said despairingly. "But your mother and your aunty have second cousins in Liverpool. I know your aunt and uncle aren't always... he drifted off.

Harry furrowed his brows. "How d'you know so much about me, anyways?" He sat down, taking another five biscuits to shove in his pockets. "I never seen you talking to Aunt Petunia."

"She knows us," mumbled Mr Robards. "But she will have pretended she doesn't."

"Why not?" The question stumbled out of Harry's mouth.

The Indian man looked him squarely in the eye. "We're not like your aunty and uncle, Harry Potter. We are... wizards."

Wizards. The word sounded funny in Harry's head. Wizards wore pointy hats and spent their lives in dusty castles studying dustier books, as far as he knew. They didn't wear immaculate business suits and cloaks and wear too much eyeliner. Mr Robards blinked, as if to underline this fact. The only other person Harry knew who did was Mrs Peahen, from art class.

"Wizards?" Harry uttered. "Like, you can do magic and stuff?"

"Yeah," the man said eagerly. "Look at this."

He pulled out his stick of wood, which was now starting to uncannily call itself a _wand_ in Harry's head, and said something that sounded French. Or Italian, he wasn't really sure. A burst of multi-coloured sparks came out the end, dancing and waving prettily.

"Cool," breathed Harry, and then frowned. Dudley had pranked him too many times for this to be believable, though. "That's just a fireworks stick."

"It can do other things," Mr Robards grinned, although he still looked a little nervous at the buzzing conversation going on outside. " _Wingardium Leviosa_."

And suddenly the entire sofa Harry was sitting on was levitating.

"Huh," said Harry. "Okay, that's pretty cool. But aren't wizards evil?"

"Those are all books written by non-wizards," the man pointed out.

Okay, that made sense. "I guess so. So can you solve Poverty and stuff?" They had learned about Poverty last Friday.

The man looked downcast. "We've got about as much trouble with that as the non-wizards," he mumbled. "We call them Muggles. Harry, why do you think Poverty exists?"

"It shouldn't," said Harry immediately. "It's a stupid grown-up thing." He thought for a moment. "Mr Smith says it's because people are Greedy."

Mr Robards nodded sadly. "Wizards are Greedy too, Harry Potter. But greedy people with powerful magic are a lot harder to fix than people without powerful magic."

Harry didn't get it. "I think I get it," he said, bored. "But I thought wizards were made-up."

"Most Muggles don't know about us," said the man. "We keep it a secret, just in case."

"Just in case of what?"

"Harry, do you know what happened at the end of Muggle World War II?"

Harry had heard about World War II, but he didn't know much apart from that man called Hitler. "No."

"The Muggles dropped a big bomb." Mr Robards made a motion with his hands. "Very, very strong and powerful. Two of them. They wiped out two cities in Japan."

"Two _cities_?" Harry thought he had heard it wrong.

"Two cities," Mr Robards confirmed. "Because Japan was scary. Do you think wizards are scary?"

"A bit," Harry admitted, grateful he was no longer floating. "So the wizards are scared of the big bomb?"

"Sort of," said Mr Robards. "It's very complicated."

Harry was burning with questions, but he got the impression that the answers would be long and boring. "Okay. Wait. So, why does Aunt Petunia know you're a wizard? Is she a wizard too?"

"No," said Mr Robards. "And the name for that is _witch_."

"That's stupid," said Harry. "There should be a word for all magic people."

"Why?" said Mr Robards curiously.

"Rachel says her mum isn't a girl or a boy," Harry pointed out. "What do you call a magic person who isn't a girl or a boy?"

Mr Robards looked taken aback by this. He sighed. "I wish there was a word, Harry Potter. But the wizarding world is a bit... flawed."

Harry was impatient. "So? Why does Aunt Petunia know?"

"Because of you." Mr Robards finally seemed to have gotten to the topic he was so keen to talk about. "Your mother was a witch, Harry. And your father was a wizard."

"Really?" Harry breathed. "Cool." Then he paused. "Though if _I_ was a wizard, I wouldn't get into a car accident."

"You are a wizard, Harry Potter."


	2. The Vectors

Albus Dumbledore was allowed inside about half an hour later, when he promised not to break anything, use any magic, or break any _one_.

When Harry saw the tall, white-haired man who somehow looked _older_ than Uncle Vernon's grandpa, a soft squeak emitted from his mouth. This man was definitely a Wizard. And something told him that the man wasn't a nice old grandpa with lots of children.

"Be at peace, Harry Potter," the man said gravely. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I have come to take you back to your aunt's house."

"I don't want to go back," said Harry immediately. "I want to learn magic."

Dumbledore pinched his nose, glancing at Moody. "Just let me Obliviate him," he pleaded.

Alastor Moody looked as if he were carved from stone. "I will not be responsible for letting him back inside that house," he barked.

"And besides, it's not fair," Harry pleaded. "All the other magic people my age get to know about magic. I bet some of them even get to learn magic before they go to your school."

"That would be against the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery," Dumbledore began, but Alastor Moody silenced him with a look. Clearly, the Headmaster was fortunate to have been let into his house at all, even as the most powerful Wizard in the world.

"I don't want to live with my aunt," Harry said finally. "My cousin's mean to me, not like the other kids at school. And Uncle Vernon says he doesn't want to look after me, neither."

Dumbledore looked furious. "Alastor, do you _want_ the boy to die?" he hissed at the blue-eyed man, even though Harry could hear every word.

Moody was grave. "What if we sent him to live with the Vectors?"

The old man shook his head. "Lily's magic loses half its potency with every degree of separation, Alastor," he sighed. "You know I would have done otherwise if I could!"

"You did exactly what would inconvenience you the least," Alastor hissed. He took a deep breath, as if remembering whom he was arguing with. "Lily's magic is powerful. And I daresay the boy would spend more time with a family that didn't abuse the living Merlin out of him." He stumped forward to gaze at Harry, who thought he saw something kind in the man's remaining human eye. "And I don't think he'll be safer than with five of the world's best Aurors looking out for him."

"But the Death Eater-"

"Screw the Death Eaters," said Moody loudly, straightening up. "We both know Voldemort didn't die that night. He will come after the boy. We _must_ prepare him, Albus, we _must_." And for the first time since Harry had met him, the man's voice broke.

Dumbledore's shoulders sagged. "If you must, Alastor. I doubt I could stand against the five of you if I so desired, anyway."

"Nonsense," snorted Moody, pulling up a chair by the coffee crate. "You could take us out without your wand. Grindelwald-"

"Grindelwald was a long time ago, Alastor, and I know that you, of all people, understand the difficulty in fighting both former lovers and former students," the old man interrupted softly, flicking his fingers. A large, squashy armchair appeared, and he seated himself. "Old age may have made me paranoid, but not, I fear, any the wiser or stronger."

"Oh, rubbish," snorted Mr Robards, taking a sip of his milk. "Lucius would control Hogwarts if not for you. I cannot _believe_ that man weaseled his way onto the Board of Directors at Hogwarts after hanging out with the Carrows in high school."

"Excuse me," said Harry in his best Aunt Petunia manners. He was still trying to remember everyone's names. "If this Lucius man was with that Voldemort guy-"

" _Don't_ say his name," warned Moody. "Some wizards can put tracking spells on their own names."

Harry took this comment wisely. "You-Know-Who sounds silly," he said obstinately. "And I bet Volde- that name isn't real, anyways. All of _you_ have normal-sounding names."

There was a silence.

"Tom," said Dumbledore heavily. "I knew him as Tom."

"He won't have a tracking spell on that," Mr Robards said helpfully. "Though you might piss him off a bit."

"Gawain," berated the old man, and the fashionable man ducked his head. Dumbledore nodded at Harry. "What were you saying, dear boy?"

"Uhh," said Harry, trying to remember. "Oh. Um. If that Lucius man um, was, uh, with that Tom guy, then why is he at Hogwarts? And why would anyone be with that Volde- Tom guy in the first place?"

"They are afraid of losing their magic, Harry," Dumbledore said solemnly. "And fear leads to hate, which leads to much suffering."

"Oh, that quote sounds like it should belong in a movie," Harry said excitedly.

"You think so?" The old man stroked his beard. "Perhaps I shall have a word with my American colleagues."

Harry shook his head, trying not to get distracted. "But, um. Is there any proof that half-bloods _have_ less magic?"

There was silence.

-

"Good riddance, I say," sniffed Uncle Vernon. "I never wanted the boy anyway."

"Vernon!" Petunia exclaimed.

She crouched down in front of Harry and ran a finger over his cheek. "I never understood your mother's kind," she told Harry gently, "but," and she looked at Vernon to check he wasn't listening, "Lily was the best and the," her voice broke, "the only sister I ever had. So stay safe for her, okay?"

"Don't worry," Harry said, a bit perturbed at his aunt's words. "The Wizards won't attack you. They're too scared of the bombs." And softer, he added, "I promise, Aunt Petunia."

She looked a bit confused, but then nodded. "All right. Now, we only saw the Vectors twice for Christmas in '68 and '74, but they should look after you all right."

"Bunch of nerds," Vernon said loudly.

"Daddy, what's a Wizard?" Dudley interrupted loudly, having apparently overheard Harry.

"There's no such thing," the man sniffed, glancing with Harry in some anxiety. "Load of rubbish they've been telling you."

" _I_ want to be a wizard," Dudley said obstinately, and picked up a book from nearby. Opening it pompously, he declared, "Abracadabra."

And then both Vernon and Petunia jumped, and Harry remembered with horror that Mr Robards had said that the Abracadabra curse had killed his parents. _I must be very careful never to say it,_ he told himself.

"Stop that at once," snapped Vernon, and marched over to the stairs. He took one last cursory glance at Harry, standing there in his baggy Dudley hand-me-downs. "Goodbye, boy. You won't be missed."

 _I won't miss you either,_ Harry thought rudely back. But instead, knowing that his Aunt Petunia was there, he nodded. "Bye, Uncle Vernon."

Aunt Petunia was taking him there by car. "Come along then, Harry," she urged him. "We don't want to be late."

-

The Vectors were not at all like the Dursleys.

Mrs Cara Vector was tall and spindly, with long orange hair that looked like it might fall out at any moment. She had a long black trench coat on with warm woolen stockings, and, Harry realised with a jolt, green eyes that looked just like his own. Professor Kairav Vector was a little bit shorter, with quite dark features and two kindly eyes. He wore a mustard jacket and always carried three pens in his breast pocket. And they had two children - a little baby girl and a boy who looked about Harry's age, peeping out nervously behind his mother's coat.

"Now, Harry, it's OK if you feel a bit homesick at first," Mrs Vector was saying. "You can go back and visit the Dursleys any time you like, okay?"

"Yes, Mrs Vector," Harry said politely. "But I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."

She exchanged a surprised look with her husband. "All right. And you don't have to call us Mr and Mrs Dursley, dear. Mum and Dad is all right - unless you feel better calling us Cara and Kairav for now, which is OK too."

Harry felt uncertain. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment. "Okay," he said awkwardly. "But, um. Maybe... a bit later, if that's all right."

"Of course it's all right!" She beamed.

Mr Vector beckoned his son out from behind his mother's coat. "Come and say hi, Benjamin." He smiled at Harry. "This is our boy Benny. He'll be in your year at school, if you want to go to Mastiff's."

Mastiff's. The word made excited and nervous tremors run down Harry's spine. It was a primary school for Wizards - no magic allowed, of course, but you got to learn lots of history about magic as well as usual Muggle things. Of course he wanted to go. He stuck out a hand towards the boy.

"Harry Potter," he said politely. "It's nice to meet you."

Upon figuring out that Harry was pretty much a walking talking boy like himself, Benjamin scurried out from his parent's shadows in an abashed hurry, taking the hand. "Benjamin Vector. Mum and Dad call me Benny, but I'd prefer Ben, if it's all the same to you."

Harry realised with delight that the boy had used his phrase from earlier, and shook his hand firmly. "Ben it is. I bet you knows loads more magic that I do."

The boy looked embarrassed. "We don't get to learn how to cast spells until we go to high school," he admitted. "But if you were raised by Muggles, I bet there's a bunch of stuff you don't know, even if you _are_ the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry noted that the boy was very good at speaking. _Probably because his dad is a professor,_ he thought, and nodded. "I reckon so too."

"And this is Alisha," Mrs Vector- his aunt? Cara, he supposed - said cheerfully, tickling the baby's chin. "Now, I suppose we best get going. Is that all your luggage?"

She peered worriedly at Harry's tiny suitcase, who nodded dutifully.

"Right then," she sighed. "The first thing I'll do is take you shopping tomorrow. Now, say goodbye."

Harry turned and practically flung his arms around the man. "Promise me you'll come visit, Mr Robards," he begged the man.

"All right, all right," Mr Robards chuckled, and then bent down, clasping a hand on Harry's shoulder. "But you'd best start calling me Gawain, okay, Harry?"

"Yes sir," Harry nodded with a beam on his face.

And the man stood up, waving his hand to the five of them as he took off.

"Auror by night, adoption agent by day," Kairav remarked in admiration. "Now that's a man."

Cara gave him what looked like an amused look. "Right. We best be off, then."

-

Living with the Vectors was very different. When someone did something wrong around Cara, she handled it in a very sensible manner, making sure everyone understood was going on and what their responsibilities were. When someone did something wrong around Kairav, he made sure to reason it out with whoever was responsible. He seemed to have a knack for giving people very good reasons for not getting into trouble again.

Once, he caught Harry hiding food under the bed.

"Harry!" He exclaimed. "What is this?"

Harry walked over with his head hung low and his fingers twisting behind his back. "Sorry, Kairav," he replied.

"Oh, you silly boy," the man snorted with a smile. "I'm not angry at you, I just don't want you eating stale food when we can get you something healthier." He held out the stone-bread to Harry. "Did Petunia and Vernon really let you do this?"

"Um," said Harry, biting his lip, "sometimes, they, um, forgot to make me food. I ate it when I got hungry."

Kairav sighed deeply. "Listen, Harry, we'll always have something for you, okay? No matter what."

Harry shifted, still feeling uncomfortable.

Kairav seemed to pick up on his mistrust. "Hmm. I can't give you money until you're older... how does this sound? I'll make you a sandwich in the mornings and put it in the fridge with your name on it, okay? Then if it ever gets past lunchtime, you've got a snack. And I'll teach you and Benny how to make proper meals."

Harry tilted his head. "Who eats the sandwich if you make me lunch?"

Kairav smiled. "Turner down the road?"

Turner was a homeless man who slept on their corner.

Harry brightened. "Okay."

"All right," said Kairav, getting to his feet. "No more yucky stale food, then." And he smiled as he walked out.

Ben, who had been watching wordlessly at the corner, scurried forward. He always seemed to have slightly messy black hair, like Harry's. "Sorry. I didn't know your aunt and uncle treated you like that."

"It's okay," said Harry quickly. "I got used to it."

Ben looked horrified. "If my mum or dad ever starved me..."

"I s'pose you'd notice," Harry mumbled. "But Kairav and Cara are a lot nicer than Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

"You can call them Mum and Dad, y'know," the boy said. "I think they'd like that. And besides..." he smiled at Harry. "It's nice to have a brother."

Harry smiled shyly back. "Thanks. You're a lot better than my cousin Dudley, for what it's worth."

"Thanks." Ben shuddered. "I can't imagine how awful _he_ would've been." He spotted a ring on Harry's sparse bedside table. "What's that?"

Harry picked it up, staring at it quietly. "I don't know. Gawain says it's the only thing they brought out of the rubble with me when my parents... y'know. He kept it to give back to me when I got older."

"Cool," Ben breathed. "D'you reckon it's got any magic?"

Harry shook it thoughtfully. No sparks flew out. "I 'spect not. But I guess I better hold onto it."

Ben rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out a piece of string. "Here. Stick it around your neck and you'll never lose it."

"Brilliant!" said Harry, tying it round his neck. "Good thing you told me before school starts on Monday. Kairav- well, Dad," he grinned at the boy, "he told me things get lost whenever school starts."

"Like you would not believe," Ben replied, shaking his head. "House gets full of _Accios_. Oh, and Dad says you'll be in my class, which is great."

"Nice!" said Harry. He got the feeling that spending time with Ben, unlike Dudley, might not make school such a nightmare.

He was not prepared for what would happen in reality when Monday came.


	3. Mastiff's

It was Monday morning and Cara and Kairav were already ahead of the game.

"Now, Harry," said Kairav, adjusting Harry's polo collar, "I'm going to advise against you wearing your glasses, only because you look a lot like James. There are pictures of him all over Mastiff's, you know. Did you try on the contacts we bought yesterday?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "They, um. Hurt a bit too much."

Kairav nodded. "I thought you might say that." He pulled one of his huge tomes off the shelves and flicked through it rapidly, drawing his wand. "Now, this won't hurt a bit."

Harry tried not to flinch as the man pointed a wand at his face. Magic took some getting used to.

" _Visio minus quinque,_ " he proclaimed, and Harry's vision cleared instantly.

He blinked, shocked.

"Whoa, Dad," Ben breathed, scurrying forward. "That's a powerful bit of magic. I've never even heard of the spell before."

"Wrote it myself," said Kairav proudly. "Comes with being an incantation and Latin PhD. Of course, it would be worthless if I wasn't descended from the House of Laal."

Cara punched him in the arm, grinning broadly. "That's my husband."

He rubbed it, smiling back at her before returning his attention to Harry. "Now, that spell will last you for about two and a half days. I can re-cast it again, but if I'm not around, you should get in the habit of wearing your contacts. All right?"

Harry nodded, still quietly in awe at the fact that he could see every detail on the fabric of his shirt (the Dursleys had never bothered to send him to a proper optometrist). The Mastiff's uniform was designed to look like a normal primary school uniform in loud white and green, but there were a few key differences: instead of a raincoat or bomber jacket, the uniform had a long black travelling cloak that reached the knee, with a large hood that seemed almost ostentatious for when it rained. And rather than the stiff black school shoes Harry had become accustomed to were a pair of real leather, magical waterproof boots, coming up to mid-calf and designed to grow as you got older. Harry loved them.

"Now," said Cara sensibly. "Two more things to take care of. First, the hair - _imbre comam_."

Instantly, Harry's hair tidied itself, parting unevenly in two to press itself against its scalp. He gasped, pressing a hand against it. His hair had _never_ behaved itself before.

Cara frowned. "And that scar. _Celare_."

There was a faint tickling sensation on his forehead, and Cara gently took him by one arm to steer him to the mirror.

He stared at himself with his unmarked face, slicked-back hair, and grass-green polo shirt. "I don't even recognise myself."

"I know right!" Cara squeaked excitedly.

Kairav seemed to sense his disappointment, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's for the best," he sighed. "You wouldn't be at risk if you went as Harry Potter - you've got some powerful magic protecting you - but you might get treated too differently, especially at a wizarding school. We just want you to have a normal wizarding childhood, son."

He smiled shyly back at the man. "Thanks... Dad."

-

"Listen, all I'm saying is that it'd be _epic_ , I mean, fantastic if people knew who you were," Ben argued as they walked down the street together.

Harry noticed that there were suddenly fewer cloaked men who were waving hello to him now. "Maybe," he mumbled. "Uh, but, when I- that time when, when I was a baby. I didn't even do anything, y'know what I'm saying?"

"I guess so," Ben sighed. "Still, I bet some people recognise you. A lot of the parents probably knew yours pretty well."

Harry fingered the ring strung around his neck. "I hope not."

-

"Welcome, come in!"

The teacher in their first class was a lady who looked surprisingly like a young Muggle mother. She had a pink turtleneck, skinny jeans, and long box braids piled on her hair in a bun. Nothing remotely witchy whatsoever.

"Now, welcome our new arrival in class, Harry Vector. He's Ben's brother."

"Why is he new if he's Ben's brother?" shouted a scruffy boy from the back rudely.

"Well, Thomas, that's none of your business," the teacher began.

"It's okay, miss," Harry said politely. "I'm adop- abot- adopted."

She smiled at him. "If you feel okay telling the class, Harry. I'm Miss Patton, by the way. Welcome to Beginner Charms."

Oh. A witch after all.

"Thank you, miss," Harry nodded.

"All right," Miss Patton began, walking over the whiteboard to begin drawing some complex runes. "Now, this is one of the oldest Charms known to wizarding kind, the Summoning Charm. You learn it in fourth year at Hogwarts, or third year at Beauxbatons, should you choose to attend school there. The incantation is _Accio_ , accompanied by the name of the object you wish to summon, like so."

"Oi," whispered a voice behind Harry, as her explanation continued.

He glanced behind him to see a blonde boy with hair slicked back like his own. "D'you mind? I'm trying to pay attention."

"Repeat after me," said Miss Patton loudly. "I will not try to summon the sun. This Charm will lift me off the Earth's surface and I will first pass out, then acquire a sunburn, and then be burned alive as my body approaches the sun."

The class mumbled back her words.

"That ring, on your neck," the blonde boy hissed.

Harry grasped it protectively and frowned.

"The last witch to try this died in 1977," Miss Patton added sternly. "Now again: I will not try to summon any human outside of a combat situation. They will hit something and receive a concussion."

The class chorused again, and the blonde boy took the opportunity to lean forward again.

"That's the seal of House Peverell," he said quietly, "I'd recognise it anywhere. The only family left with that name is-"

"Draco!" insisted Miss Patton. "One more word and I will tell your father about this."

"But Miss, that's Harry Potter!" the boy exclaimed.

There was a chorus of gasps from around the room, and then a snickering started up.

"Yeah right, like Harry Potter would be in our class," snorted Thomas. "He's probably out killing Death Eaters or something."

"Harry Potter Day started four years ago," the blonde boy insisted. "He must be our age!"

"Mr Malfoy!" Miss Patton barked. "That is _quite_ enough. You can leave Harry alone, or you can take your nonsense somewhere else."

"Fine," Draco muttered, slumping in his chair, but he still looked unhappy.

"Now," continued Miss Patton. "I will not summon a powerful wizard. They have stabilising Charms and I will become an airborne missile."

-

"Hey!" Harry called across the corridor, hurrying up to the blonde boy. "What did you mean, earlier? And who are you?"

"I don't care what anyone says, you _are_ Harry Potter," the boy said firmly, sticking his nose in the air.

"Look," Harry hissed, urgently. "I'll tell you the truth, but in private. And I have a question."

The boy's eyes widened. "So you are-?"

"Not here!" Harry whispered sharply, and tugged him by the arm until they were both outside. "Look, yes, I am Harry Potter. Now what do you know about this ring?"

He pulled it off from around his neck and held it out. The blonde boy took it gingerly, turning it around in his fingers.

"This is one of the Great Seals from the old times," he explained, fixated. "My father made sure I knew all of them by heart. There've been theories for years about the Potters being descended from the Peverells... but I never really thought, until now..."

"Who are the Peverells?" Harry asked, lost.

The boy gave him a look. "Excuse me? Everyone knows who the Peverells are."

"I told you I was adopted," Harry said in exasperation. "I don't know anything about wizards."

"Yeah, right," the boy scoffed. But then seeing that Harry was serious, he blinked. "No kidding? I should bring you some books from home, then. Can't have famous Harry Potter walking around without knowing who he is."

"There you are!" called a voice from the hall. Ben ran over to them, huffing and puffing. "I've been looking for you everywhere." He cast a dirty look at the blonde boy. "What are you doing with _him_?"

Harry blinked. "With who?"

The blonde boy stuck out his hand. "Draco of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy, at your service," he declared without a hint of irony.

Harry took it. "Harry Potter," he sighed. "And I don't know anything about my house."

"Potter is a Noble House too, by the way," said Malfoy. "You avenged the Most Noble and Ancient House of Monroe by killing You-Know-Who."

"Huh," said Harry.

"C'mon, Harry, why are you hanging round with him?" Ben pleaded.

"Because he knows stuff," Harry shrugged. Then looking at Ben's expression, he added, "Look, he's not so bad."

"Malfoys are _evil_ , everybody knows that." Ben gave Draco another dirty look. " _He's_ evil."

"I prefer ambitious," said Draco smoothly.

"Ben, we're _five_ ," Harry replied uncertainly. "I don't think five-year-olds can be evil."

Ben seemed to take this into consideration. "Okay, fine. He can play with us."

"I don't play with half-bloods," Draco sniffed.

"My mum and dad were both magical, I think," Harry replied, remembering what Ben had told him.

"And _my_ dad is from the Noble House of Laal," sniffed Ben.

Draco seemed to take this into consideration. He shrugged. "Okay, let's go play."


	4. The Animagus Mystery

Magic got very boring when you weren't allowed to do any yourself.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Draco commented, peering at Harry holed up between the shelves.

Harry looked up from his copy of _Great First Wizards Throughout History: An Insight Into America's First Magical Peoples_ and sneezed. "Reading."

"Yes, I can _see_ that," Draco sniffed, shoving his hands in his pockets to lean against a shelf. "But why that drivel?"

Harry stared quietly at the novel. "A lot of the stories in _Babbity Rabbity_ are pretty old... I was hoping reading these would help with figuring out, y'know, the Peverell thing."

Draco frowned, making his way over. "But those old fairytales are British, right?"

"Yeah, but they're not the only widar- wizarding record of Death and stuff," Harry rejoined, a little smile on his chubby face. "Look, there are stories about the Aztec wizards visting Mictecacihuatl in the afterlife. Besides, the Peverell account was probably a meeting with Hein, from the Netherlands."

"The Netherlands?" Draco, bewildered, crouched next to Harry to peer at the book.

Harry shrugged. "Peverell is French. A lot of the Muggle Arthurian myths are, um, French as well, so I wasn't surprised - but Ignatius wouldn't've known about the British or Irish Deaths. Like the dullahan."

Draco sat back against the shelves. "You don't think the Deaths are all the same?"

Harry looked unhappy. "If they aren't, we'll have to travel to France to figure it out."

Draco abruptly burst out laughing, and then seemed to pause, staring at something on Harry's head. "What happened to your hair?"

"Huh?" Harry felt his head. His hair was loose and scraggly. "What? My mother spelled it back this morning."

Draco squinted at it. "That smells of magic to me. You must've undone the gel-spell."

"What? No way." Harry messed with it, trying to push it back into its original position. "I don't even know any magic."

"You don't have a wand yet," Draco corrected. "Underage wizards sometimes cast magic by accident, I've heard. But you're only seven, which is pretty young."

Harry sighed. "I wish I could control it. Then I wouldn't have to worry about Tom all the time."

Draco's nose screwed up. He didn't like it when Harry called the Dark Lord by his legal name. "You really think he's alive."

"My Noble House status hinges on it," Harry pointed out. "And a Dark Lord with no backup plan? I swear Mr Moody's paranoid as a cat, but he's usually right."

Draco sighed. "Father's so sure he's dead. I hope so."

"You do?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'm not supposed to." Draco glanced at him. "But I know that if he isn't, the first person he'll come after is you."

-

"You know, sometimes," Ben complained once in Mathematics, "I feel like I've been replaced by Malfoy."

"Sorry." Harry scratched his head. "But you're both my friends, I swear."

"I don't mind him," Ben admitted. "But he's going to get Sorted into Slytherin one day. And Dad says there isn't a Dark Wizard alive who didn't end up in Slytherin."

"That doesn't guarantee that all Slytherins are bad," Harry pointed out. "I wouldn't mind being Sorted into Slytherin."

Ben looked at him, shocked. "The Vectors have been in Ravenclaw for generations. And both your parents were Gryffindor."

"But Sirius Black's entire family was Slytherin, and he got Sorted into Gryffindor."

"And look where that landed him."

Harry shuddered. "It doesn't seem right. He was my father's best friend. Somebody must've framed him."

"He was the Secret Keeper for your parents. _And_ he blew up a bunch of wizards, including your Dad's _other_ best friend."

"He doesn't have a Dark Mark," Harry replied stubbornly. "He knew Voldemort was going to target him. Sirius was smart - I've read the school records!"

"And insane." Ben rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to ask Dumbledore next time he visits to check I'm safe."

-

"Of course Sirius wasn't framed," Dumbledore said seriously. "But to allay your fears, I could give you a list of people whom the Fidelius Charm was cast on."

Harry blinked. _To allay my fears?_

-

"There's no way he would just give me this," Harry sighed, staring at the scrap of paper fluttering about in his hand.

Draco and Ben, lying on the clear spring grass next to him, looked at each other.

"Look, Harry, maybe Black didn't mean to," Ben said gently. "Voldemort's torture techniques have ways of recalibrating brains so that they honestly believe something is the right thing to do."

"Surely whoever designed the Fidelius Charm wasn't _that_ stupid," Harry muttered to himself. "Besides, if you're right, there's still checkn- tech, technikally an innocent man in Askaban."

"Potter, I want Black out of Askaban as badly as you do" - Ben glared at Draco - "he was one of your father's friends, I mean. But look at the number of people on that list."

Harry stared at the scrap, filled with various members of the Order.

"Half of them are dead," he pointed out. "It won't take us that long. We just ask where I go to visit my mother and father's house. They can't resist the Boy-Who-Lived," he grinned.

"Moody won't be too hard," Draco murmured. "But what about all these other people?"

Someone yanked the scrap of paper out of Harry's fingers.

"Oi!" Harry protested.

"Blood traitors," snarled Draco.

Leering over them were famous sixth-year pranksters Fred and George Weasley, hair as obnoxious as the smirks plastered on their faces.

"Language, Draco," grinned Fred.

"We've almost a mind not to help you," added George.

"Help me?" Draco looked faintly disgusted. "With what, pray tell?"

"Not you," George frowned. "Him."

The four of them stared at Harry, who felt distinctly uncomfortable. "Yeah, help with what?"

"Your little project, whatever it is." Fred flapped the paper. "You've got people to find, we can help."

Ben looked lost. "What?"

"Hogwarts," clarified George. "According to legend, there's a piece of the security system hidden somewhere that reveals a wizard's true name. We'll be able to see if any of them enter when we go next year."

"And I suppose you know where this piece of security system is?" asked Draco dubiously.

"Filch's office, of course," Fred replied instantly. "Charlie says everything ends up there eventually."

"And how are you going to get everyone on the list at Hogwarts?" Draco raised his eyebrows.

"We won't," said the twins at the same time.

" _But,_ " said Fred. "We can notify you as soon as someone enters. For a price, of course."

"A price?" Ben looked troubled.

"A Galleon for every name," said George triumphantly.

"A _whole Galleon?_ " Ben looked positively offended.

"I'll do it," said Harry instantly. "On two conditions."

They frowned. "What?"

"First, you gotta see if there's a way to do it for outside Hogwarts as well," Harry said, pointing out the obvious. "Make sure you charm an alert for all names so you don't miss anything. But secondly..." he lowered his voice. "If you end up talking to one of them, ask where Harry Potter's house is."

The two of them burst out laughing.

"So that's what you're after!" George roared. "Don't worry, Vector, we'll support your little fanboy project."

In another moment, the two of them were gone.

"This is expensive, Harry," said Ben worriedly. "We only get ten Knuts each a week."

"I bet they don't find anything for ages," Harry said confidently. "Besides, I've got a whole bank account of gold once _I_ go to Hogwarts. I'm sure I can afford whatever wizarding loan rates are right now."

"Oh, yeah," Ben coughed. "Forgot about that."

Draco sighed. "Potter, for the sole survivor of a potentially non-Noble House, you sure sound like you've got the Malfoy name."

"Oh _Draco_ , we've been friends for years. Harry is fine."

-

Less than a year later, Draco Malfoy came to school with a wand in his jacket.

"Draco, buddy, you've outdone yourself this time," sighed Ben, shaking his head.

They were in the school library again, talking in hushed whispers down the back.

"What?" The blonde boy chuckled, dangling it above his head. "Father's taught me some things at home - all purebloods do it. The Ministry can't pick it up if you're around other wizards."

"Careful, Draco," Harry cautioned, keeping out of the wand's firing range. "Moody's warned me about messing with wands."

"Harry, not everyone's as magically prodigious as you," Draco snorted. "But c'mon, I want to do some proper magic." He rifled through several books.

"Wait, wait, let's think about this," Ben said hastily. "We can't do first-year spells. That would be too obvious. We need to practice some really tricky magic. Permanent stuff."

Draco raised his eyebrows, turning to face the mousy boy. "And? What do you suggest?"

"I've read all your father's files on his school life by now," said Harry. "My father could turn into a stag before he was eleven."

-

It was another year before they received a letter from the Weasleys.

"Go on, open it," urged Ben, as they all crowded around the library table.

It was strewn with papers from their studies (becoming an Animagus was tougher than it sounded, to be perfectly honest). Harry took a deep breath and unfolded the scrap from around the barn owl's leg, opening his mouth.

 _Harry, you're not going to believe this. We found_ Pettigrew.

Draco and Ben stared at him.

 _I know he's supposed to be dead, but get this - he's sleeping with our brother, Percy. Well, not_ sleeping _sleeping - that would be weird - but his soul's in the Gryffindor Common Room, next to Percy's bed. He only moves when Percy has Care of Magical Creatures. We reckon whatever's shrunk his soul must have something to do with that. ___

_We'll keep you updated._

_-George_

__"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Draco asked grimly._ _

__"Illegal Animagus," said Harry and Ben in unison._ _


	5. The Great Lord Malfoy

Draco, Ben and Harry quickly realised that they had two major problems on their hands.

Problem #1: The Anti-Antimagus Charm was higher-level magic than the Animagus Charm itself (although definitely more legal), and they had barely mastered the latter yet.

Problem #2: None of them were going to be allowed into Hogwarts for another two years.

"And, of course, we can't call the Aurors," Ben pointed out, after school. "We'll sound like nutters."

"You don't think the Map is enough proof?" asked Harry worriedly. They were walking home the long way, past Draco's house.

"A spelled bit of parchment?" Draco snorted. His face grew serious. "But I tell you what, Harry - your theory about Black might be right. Father always said the Dark Lord had a secret agent working for him."

"What secret agent?"

The looming figure of the Great Senior Malfoy loomed over them from the Great Gates of Malfoy Manor.

"Father!" Malfoy squeaked. "I didn't - expect you home so soon."

"Strange matters, my boy," the man smiled coldly, his fingers gripping his cane. "The Minister is to be deposed of shortly. As for you," he directed his gaze at Harry, "the Boy-Who-Lived. We meet at last. Draco has told me much about you."

He extended a hand, and Harry took it cautiously. Draco had warned him this day might come. "Likewise, sir. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Lord Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Do come inside for tea, will you?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Ben interjected hastily. "Our father expects us home shortly."

The wizard turned his attention to the little boy, dusty hair half-obscuring his eyes. "And you are?"

"Ben Vector, sir. Of House Laal." Ben furrowed his brow, and added, "Although I'm sure Harry would be pleased to speak with you at a later date, perhaps. Wouldn't you, Harry?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Harry said hurriedly.

"Silver-tongued, just like your father," Lord Malfoy replied admiringly. "Very well, Vector, Potter. I expect I shall be seeing you both again very soon, then. Now, say goodbye, Draco."

"Bye," replied Draco morosely, but gave them a tiny thumbs up to show them that they had done a good job.

"Did you hear that?" Ben squeaked as they walked away. "Lord Malfoy wants _me_ over for tea!"

"He knows your dad," Harry said pointedly, "didn't you hear? Plus, we're brothers. It would've been rude not to."

"Merlin," Ben sighed as they trundled home, "I still can't believe Draco ratted you out to his father."

"Well, of course," Harry replied modestly. "Lucius Malfoy _is_ a Death Eater, after all."

-

Draco was the first to master the Animagus Charm, four weeks later, when they were all practicing in his bedroom.

(Lucius Malfoy was utterly delighted that the Boy-Who-Lived was practicing illegal spells with his son in their house.)

(Ben and Harry's dad, Harry imagined, probably not so much.)

There had been a long argument about what forms they were going to take, months earlier, when they first began their preparations.

"I'm going to be a marmoset," Harry had said confidently around a mouthful of leaf, "or a crow. They're both sneaky so I'll never get caught."

"You idiot, you can't pick your Animagus form," Draco had snorted. "It takes the shape of your inner nature, like a Patronus."

"Oh really?" Ben had leaned around him and snatched a sketch off the table. "So what's this?" He waved it around.

Draco flushed. "Give that back! Everyone knows the Malfoys have been Slytherins since forever."

Ben, laughing, had run around the library in uproar for half an hour til the bell had gone.

Now the mood was significantly more depressed, as they recited their twice-daily _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_ with their wands over their chests and went back to practicing the Patronus Charm (much more rewarding, although all they could create right now were wisps) (Draco said this was because memories tended to be more strongly linked with emotions after puberty) (Ben said this sounded like rubbish) (Harry just wished they would both shut up).

With all the drama of an eighteenth-century vampire, Lord Malfoy flung the door open, eyes wide and hair slightly askew (rare).

"Boys," he gasped, "there's an electrical storm coming."

"No way," Ben frowned. "Daily Prophet said skies were clear all month."

Draco's father shook his head, rubbing his temples as he caught his breath by the door. "Magical migraines never lie. Prepare yourselves."

And sure enough, less than a minute later, a great earth-shattering _boom_ filled the house, shaking and rattling all of Lord Malfoy's finely wrought china.

"Oh no," Ben complained. "At Malfoy Manor in a thunderstorm after six. Dad'll have our hides."

"Don't worry about that," Harry said excitedly, "don't you see? This is our chance to become Animagi!"

"And last chance to break the law," said Lord Malfoy, though he winked at them.

"Then who's gonna go first?" asked Draco breathlessly, back from diving into the closet to retrieve the vials they had painstakingly concocted.

Ben and Harry looked at each other.

"Who do you think, mate?" Ben chuckled. "You were the one who made us start this crazy thing in the first place."

Draco stared back at him, and then gave a shy smile, passing them their vials. "All right. Make sure I don't freak out or anything, father."

"Of course not," promised Lord Malfoy (he had insisted on supervising them the moment he had found out).

And then Harry and Ben were staring at a coiled white snake on the floor.

"Did it work?" asked the snake.

"Huh. I assume so," said Harry.

And now the snake, Ben, and Lord Malfoy were all staring at Harry. The snake promptly turned back into Draco Malfoy, who pulled his trousers back on (they hadn't figured out the clothes-packing Charm just yet).

"So, um, Harry," said Draco. "When were you going to tell us that you're the Heir of Slytherin?"

"The what now?"

Ben blinked. "You're a Parselmouth, Harry."

"A what now?"

Lucius buried his face in a hand. "You can speak to snakes, boy. I presume the Dark Lord passed several of his talents on to you when you defeated him eight years ago."

"Oh," said Draco dumbly. "Yeah, that explains it."

"Huh," said Harry. "I'm a Parselmouth. Well, that would have been handy to know earlier."

"It's good news, anyhow," Draco grinned. "We can both talk to snakes, now."

"A white snake," Lord Malfoy mused. "How rare. Very well done, Draco."

"Thank you, father," Draco beamed.

"Left out as usual," Ben groused.

Harry rested a hand on his shoulder. "You go next, Ben," he encouraged. "You've done a lot of the legwork in translation for us, after all."

"All right," Ben said nervously, and downed the vial.

In another moment, there was a common brown pine marten nestled in his clothes.

"You know, that look suits you," Draco commented.

The pine marten squeaked in indignation, and transformed back in Ben. "I still have _ears_ , you know," he said crossly, pulling his shirt on.

"Shame we can't understand you," Harry sighed.

"Animaguses can talk to each other a bit if they're similar animals, you know," Ben said knowledgeably. "Besides, I'm sure we'll work out our own system, what with you two already able to communicate. Right, Harry, your turn."

And Harry downed his own vial as the final quake of thunder shook the house, windows flashing in the gloom. He shifted his stiff neck and discovered that his right arm had feathers. So, apparently, did his left arm. He resisted the strange urge to bob his head and looked up at Ben and the Malfoys, his vision adjusting strangely sharply. He squawked.

"More surprises from you, Mr Potter," Lord Malfoy said smoothly.

"Whoa, Harry," Ben breathed.

Draco bent down to look at him curiously, half-extending a hand. "I've never seen one in real life before."

Harry took a couple of nervous steps back, then scampered over to Draco's full-length mirror to inspect himself. At first, all he could see were the nasty beak and the beady eyes. Then the rest of his body came into view, and he noted the strange feline hind legs, and his long furry tail. He extended his long eagle wings, and gave them a cautious test flap, marvelling at the _whooshy_ feeling. He was only a foot tall, but still... he transformed back with his practiced _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_ thought.

"I could probably carry both of you," was the first thing he chuckled, wrapping his jacket over his shoulders.

"Harry, are you _kidding_ me?" Ben asked, slumping back into a sofa. "Parselmouth and griffin. Never thought I'd see them both in the same person in one day."

Harry vaguely recognised the term, but hadn't done enough research into magical creatures to know much. "Griffin? What do they do again?"

"Guard magical artifacts and chambers, chiefly," came Lord Malfoy's cold response. The man sat down as well, followed quickly by his son. "But it is rare indeed to see an Animagus take the form of a magical creature. The only other known _registered_ Animagus to do so is Albus Dumbledore himself - hence the reason he has survived so many deadly attacks. I expected your Animagus to resemble James', to be perfectly honest."

Harry shrugged. "I've heard that wizards' Patronuses and Animagi forms change shape under great emotional or life events. Stands to reason that being adopted by Ben's family seems like a big enough change."

"Still..." the man mumbled, almost to himself. "A protector. What on earth are you protecting?"

-

And then there was only one year left of their time at Mastiff's.


	6. Close

Gawain ruffled Harry's hair as they set off from the Ministry in the crisp autumn air.

"Now, I know I won't replace the Vectors or the Potters," he began.

"Oh, shush," Harry snorted.

"All right," Gawain chuckled, and then slowed to a halt. "But I do have to tell you something very serious that you might not want to hear."

Harry blinked, and turned to face Gawain. "Yeah?"

"You have one other godfather," the man said grimly. "And I'm sorry to say that his name is... Sirius Black."

Harry blinked again. "Oh, is that all? I already know."

Gawain lifted his head in surprise. "You do?"

"Of course," Harry said promptly. "Draco and Ben got me to research all sorts of things to catch up when I first got to Mastiff's. I know lots about my father - James, I mean. Don't worry."

Gawain cocked his head. "And you don't feel upset about it?"

Harry looked around, then took a deep breath. "Listen, Gawain," he said carefully. "Mum and Dad - I love them a lot, but you're the first one I trust. I need you to take me seriously on this, and believe that I'm handling it like a grown-up."

"I promise," Gawain said sincerely.

"Sirius Black is innocent," said Harry. "And when I finally reach the man who framed him, he will face justice."

Gawain raised his eyebrows. "And I suppose you want to lock up this mystery man in Askaban?"

"Oh, I know who he is," Harry assured his godfather. "But don't worry, I'm going to abolish Askaban when I take over Magical Britain through the Wizengamot and defund the Auror force in favour of specialist Mungo response teams."

"Ah yes, your ambitious plans," Gawain chuckled. "Malfoy really has corrupted you, hasn't he?"

"But don't worry," Harry went on. "I won't do anything silly like get revenge for James' death. I just want an innocent man free from Askaban."

"Harry," Gawain said heavily, pausing them again to rest a hand on his shoulder. "Sirius Black killed thirteen people and betrayed your parents to Lord Volde- Tom Riddle. Don't do anything silly."

"He's innocent," Harry insisted, grasping the man's hand. "Give me exactly one year, and I will give the entire Wizengamot enough evidence to have the felon put where he belongs until he can be trusted with the lives of wizards and muggles alike once more." He was very proud of that sentence - he'd been practicing.

Gawain looked troubled, his long black locks shifting uneasily. "And just who is this felon?"

Harry gave him a measured look. "I can't go spreading his name just yet. Dead men tell no tales, after all."

And they continued on their way.

-

The last strange encounter they had that year was on Kairav's bring-your-child-to-work-day at the university. 

Contrary to popular belief, Cambridge has many more wizards than the surface level belies - in fact, this goes for the majority of Oxbridge. Mill Lane Lecture Room 8.21, for instance, taught Enunciation for the N.E.W.T.-level wizard, encouraging research into spells believed to be lost from Atlantis (this was the subject Kairav specialised in).

"Harry, do you think Draco's going to be all right at the Ministry?" Ben asked worriedly, as they scurried along in the wake of their father.

"Hey, I'm usually the one that frets about Draco," Harry joked, and then shrugged. "As long as neither of them turn into snakes, he'll be fine. He's with the Great Lord Malfoy, after all - nobody'll dare hurt them."

This sounded like dry commentary to Kairav, of course, but Harry was being literal. After that first day of the three of them discovering their Animagi forms, Lord Malfoy had told them that it was only fair that he show them _his_ unregistered Animagus form (Draco said later that this was called a trust exercise, and Malfoy was really trying to buy House Potter's vote, which Harry could believe).

Lord Malfoy could turn into a Korean imoogi. This did not fill Harry with confidence - although, he reassured himself, the chances of Malfoy Senior living over one thousand years did not seem particularly high.

"Listen carefully, kids," Kairav told them, as they hurried through the grounds. "You can have a look around while I teach, but don't go wandering. Not all of the wizarding professors here are as highly qualified or... _safe_ , as I am."

Both being nine, and without Draco around to entertain them, they promptly ignored this advice the moment the door swung shut.

"I'm sure some of the newer staff Dad said were upstairs," Ben said thoughtfully. "I bet they have the best lectures."

And they hurried up, ignoring the strange looks many of the (older, much wiser) academics were providing them.

"Look, 42 is the answer to the universe," Harry argued loudly as they jogged down the hallway, "I read that in a Muggle book somewhere." (Harry stubbornly maintained that as the Muggles had got much further with Mathematics than the Wizards, surely there must be some benefit to learning it the Muggle way).

"All right," Ben sighed. "42 it is."

And they leaned into the wall between a window and a door, quite suddenly emerging into a small amphitheatre of grey-robed scholars with greyer faces staring back at them.

"Well, sit down, gentlemen," sighed the obviously overwrought professor. "You're late, though I'll let it go just this once."

Ben and Harry looked at each other, then scurried to seat themselves in the back row.

"Now as I was saying," the man continued. "The Were Clans were generally quite well-organised before the colonising effects of the Western Wizarding World. New members would be allocated systematically via loval volunteers, as shown on the board by the writings of Magnus and Ralston..."

His voice droned on, and Harry wriggled, trying to get a better look at the man. He was civil and quite diminutive, wearing a cardigan and slacks like one might expect of the older professors. His hair hung limp and long on one side of his face, and Harry could make out three pale scars reaching up from his neck just underneath. Unusual for a wizard.

"Harry, you getting this?" whispered Ben, avidly scribbling down the man's words.

"Huh?" Harry whispered back.

"Gentlemen!" the professor called. "I must ask you not to speak during the lecture, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," they chorused, and promptly shut their mouths.

Harry did not find the lecture overly interesting, although it felt like the man was almost trying to argue in a room full of dissenters. After the lecture, Harry and Ben hurried up to the front to apologise for disrupting.

"That was a fantastic lecture, sir," Ben beamed. "When's your next one? Do you hold night classes?"

The man smiled a little, leaning on his knees in the way adults do to talk to the two of them.

"Now, you two aren't my regulars. You must be Kairav's boys." He frowned. "Pardon me, but those marks on your faces. Were you born with them?"

Harry and Ben looked at each other. With a jolt, Harry realised Ben had slight black vertical marks just above his eyelids, as if he had put eyeliner on that morning (or had it been every morning?). And, Harry remembered, those funny pale - almost invisible - arrow markings pointing downwards from his eyes that had appeared a few months ago. Strange that the man would notice them. He shrugged. Ben shrugged.

"Well," the man smiled, a curious sparkle in his eye, "allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Remus Lupin, the specialist in sentient magical creature study at the University."

"Dad's friend," Harry breathed, and then the man's head turned so sharply that his gaze looked eagle-like in itself.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Harry," he said quickly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Ben," Ben added. "Though I 'spect you already know our dad."

"Oh," the man sighed. "I understand. Well, my lectures are open to you any time, as long as you keep quiet. Now, run along. I expect your father will be waiting."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, and quickly sped out of there.

"Harry, that was _Lupin_ ," Ben gasped as they ran down the stairs. "He's the only other missing puzzle piece, Why didn't you tell him who you were?"

"I, I dunno," Harry breathed, mind blanking. He hadn't expected to actually _run into_ the man so soon. "I guess I wasn't expecting it to be, y'know, _him_."

"Fair enough," Ben shrugged, and then they ran headlong into their father.

Kairav put his hands on his hips. "Now, where did you two run off to?"

-

Over the remaining year, precious little came from Fred and George except confirmation of the Fidelius Charm on a few individuals. This made Harry more frustrated than ever, and out of the three friends, he was the only one struggling to summon a corporeal Patronus.

" _Expecto Patronum!!_ " he screamed into the empty room, but the barest trickle of light filtered from Malfoy's secret wand.

Heaving, he collapsed to his knees and fell against the floor with a groan.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ben called out encouragingly. "We're not in Hogwarts yet, I'm sure you can get it."

"It's not particularly complex, though," Draco muttered to himself. "Your problem isn't with magic aptitude." 

Draco had, surprisingly, also been the first to summon a corporeal Patronus, which Harry tried not to think too hard about.

He sat up. "All right, then, what did you two think of when you summoned the Patronus?"

"Mum," said Ben abruptly and sincerely. "When I said the school board wouldn't let me into third-year Classics. She went right up to them and yelled at them for hours. And when she came out, she looked so tired... but she put her arms right around me and said she would do whatever it took for me to pursue what I wanted to do."

Draco stared shiftily, then fidgeted. "Uh. When I first tried the spell, I thought of my mother too. And my father. When they took me to the fair, once." He looked uneasy.

Harry sighed. "And I've got so many happy memories, too. I don't know what the matter is."

Draco took the wand from him gently. "Your problem aren't your happy memories." An unhappy smile tugged at his lips. "You're so worried about the future that you never let yourself let your guard down. You're just like Moody, I think."

Harry stood abruptly. "Look, I'm going to go home. See you later."

And before they could utter a word, he ran out. Just like Moody? He only talked to the paranoid man a few times a year. How could they be anything alike? Besides, the man was the original Auror figure Harry hated so much - he was vicious, unyielding when it came to anything to do with safety. He had _killed_ people. He'd told Harry so himself.

He crashed into a figure.

"Harry!" exclaimed a familiar voice. "I didn't expect to run into you here, my dear boy."

It was Dumbledore. He grimaced. More powerful wizards to have to deal with.

"Hello, sir," he replied politely. "I was just on my way home. How are you?"

"All right, Harry, all right," Dumbledore said in his fake tired-happy adult voice. "Just on my way to interview your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for next year."

"Oh, really?" Harry asked, out of curiosity. "Who is it?"

"A man named Quirinus Quirrell," Dumbledore smiled. "A timid soul and scholarly soul, although I do have my doubts about his character. Poor lad was Sorted into Ravenclaw during his time at Hogwarts, but I'm afraid his school years were riddled with misfortune - I hope to rectify that today."

"His character?" Harry's interest was piqued. "What do you mean?"

Dumbledore heaved a sigh. "I don't wish to cast slight upon his character, but he was always a little unkind about the progression of wizard-creature relations. His recent adventures with vampires and all other sorts... well."

"All other sorts?" Harry thought of Lupin with a jolt. "Like werewolves?"

Dumbledore blinked. "Yes, he was never keen on the werewolf movements. Why do you ask?"

"I don't want a man like that teaching me," Harry said bluntly. "Wizards already have enough trouble in our system, we don't need tumultuous relations in the future with other sentient species. Besides, I don't even know if Tom Riddle's really gone - he's trouble, too."

"You sound just like Alastor this morning," Dumbledore replied wearily.

Harry stared at him, frozen. His lips tried to form words. "What do y, you mean?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Analysing everything so thoroughly, as if we were at war. Although the similarity does not surprise me."

"What?"

"Alastor lost many people he cared about during the last War," Dumbledore said quietly. "He holds tightly onto those of us he has left, at any cost. I suppose I hadn't realised... how much your family and your friends during your time at Mastiff's mean to you, Harry."

Harry rubbed his arm. "They're my friends," he said quietly. "Of course I care about them. I don't want another War."

Dumbledore gave him a wry look. "I'm sorry, Harry, but there are few wizards willing to fill the position at Hogwarts."

Harry cast his thoughts back. "I might have a suggestion."


End file.
